Secrets:
My daydreams cradle you

when your voice is raspy
you are still the miracle of music,
tapping my eardrums

autumn rebirth
smoooooth caffeine highs and your eyes
***** afternoons

as the sun sets:
taking pictures of a row of benches
shadows caress the corners of the frame

slowly persuading my shadows to blink
blink
you're stretching out my midnight mornings
I'm swelling, my heart is a sand castle
that could stand to be built up and broken down and built again into
something more beautiful.

Sunshine settles in...
We need no filters

Take my hand without asking, please
take my eyes and kiss my skin with your warmth
take me - me -
do you know what it means to give you my body?
a plunge into the future through fears of the past.
Jump with me.

holed inside, cornered, focused
paper pops into my eyes
lines on lines

headphones in, beats in time

turn my head:
windows
and grays
and rains
//contrast with fake-warm lighting:

is the most beautiful awakening


.


((I'd love to go dance in the
rain, will you join me? Stare straight up
and get that freshly-drizzled feeling
in my fingertips and
weight my eyelids
closed, happily--
motions: feet moving of
their own accord
            stomp
                      in
                         puddles
                   laughing
            into
      childhood memories --
I'd love to bring you back
with me))


a happy interlude
cues:
plug out
remember there's a whole world out there
grin
plug in

after you touched me
my confidence lasted
a full day

softly...
your hand was warm

it was just a brush by, really

and it wasn't even a soft spot

just exposed.


I want to mix with you still
leave cool spots on your cheeks
softly...
drip down your legs.

the air would be yellow sun around our heads

I.

Tick, tock.
Snakes on the clock. Brains. Skin. Air. Hair. Coils of fabric, and teeth.
Oxygen reeks. Stales. Pales and contracts.
Breathe nonetheless
Pull on a dress. Pull on a vest.  Step outside. Feel the wind.
Oh, the days I’ve spent-
Instantly forget.
Put on my face
Roses in a vase
Feelings cased in the closet
Filling space

Seems sometimes we’re just filling space
What a waste

…

II.

Deep breath
Rose-scent fills her head

This could be it, she said
You’re too pretty for that, he said
Black and white embroidered with red
The cold air stung her lips as she read
This stone is where I’ll lay my head
The ground is made of bones
She’s alone

…

Steps on gravel, sounds awake the night
Jump into the abyss? She might

Memories of childhood fights
Initial dislikes
Periwinkle paint sets and tights
Once, learning to draw a rose
Once, hanging onto a hose, drenching strawberries
With brother in backyard
Family is a golden memory
At least there are pictures

…

Boy
The first one she kissed on the lips.
It was a dare. Fleeting but his eyes dripped sweetness. Twelve years young? She can’t remember. She ****** the same boy, drunk, four years later. He wasn’t the first, though.
And he still seems innocent

…

Hovering tensely
At the half-open door
She’ll never feel loved again.
She said.
Aches. Heavy ferocity ready to tumble. Dread.
Wake-up song every morning in her head.
The ground is made of bones.
She’s alone.
I’ve come this far. Revs up the car. Tears down her cheeks.
Runs over herself repeatedly in the street.

…

Why so gray?
His lips hold secrets
Autumn hay-stack drenched in dryness
Cool but bright, he’s a working man with a voice made of sunshine
Her eyes twinkled hello at his fingertips’ first brush-by
Smiled and walked away
Perhaps another day

…

III.

...

Rain soaks my skin.
I was walking, computer and books weighted on my shoulders,
Lightning crossing my path
Relax
I’m visualizing math

The air is cool. The wind rolled darkness in on its back.
The storm is roaring and strobing the sky
I’d like to derive your kind
and the rhythm of my mind
From the grains of sand left behind

,

And listen to the song of the sea

.

And float in the lingering breeze
As the storm dies down
The night’s dying down
I’m counting for now,, and "you"
Are a ghost of an idea, wispy but fresh but

Unformed
Much like the memory of yesterday’s storm

...

As I was drenched in the shower I could only think about taking pictures of my memories and tearing them into a storm
A catastrophe -
I'd laugh.
I'd call it art.

This storm is ******* beautiful.

I write because I care and I'm often afraid
So here's to the start of an honest relationship.
Because it would be nice to have someone write you a poem. Nice, but not necessary.
Here's to freedom, independence, and breaking the rules.
Here's to loneliness, and getting through it.
Here's to learning constantly.
Today I'd like to write myself a poem.

I want to tell myself that the way my eyes glinted in the sunlight today was like fresh daffodils bursting straight out of the winter cold
that my smiles were contagious, soft, timeless, and beautiful
that my footsteps caressed the ground with all the bliss of triumphant, free happiness and well-wishing,
that brightness spread in my wake,
that I glowed.
that I made a difference.
that everything up to this point led to a fractured-but-still-beautiful-for-it picture
that every single one of my ideals is beautiful, that my yearning for the world to feel loved is seeping out my pores,
that someone cried joy to remember that people connect
that words leaped out of the page and helped someone connect

Hon, you're great how you are.
You're most beautiful when you're happy.
I like you better when you're laughing.
When you're in a bad mood, you're kind of whiny...
But thank God you're not perfect.
And thank God you don't pretend to be.
And life is hard, but it's better that way. So keep walking.
You know yourself better than you think you do.


These words could be whispered, or written, or sung
whatever helps you listen
alone never are you..you are never alone..never..are...never..alone.. ever
You are never alone.



Written May 3

The crack starts beneath my feet,
weaves down the street,
ends in a shadowed horizon
Bleak
I'm five slips away from some sort of leap
One breath per beat, beat,
beat.
Small steps. Indecisiveness surfaces from the stream. Time trickles.
The river is behind me, I want to jump backwards.
Flip. Finally. Face up, **** up, fall. Fail. Flail. Fight. Faster. Faster.
Whispers echo across rocks.
Whines like sirens

My fingertips are encased in firelight
What have these hands seen?
They dance so freely

Fright in the form of leaden limbs
at the center of a maze
I want the water to take me away


Spinning blindly. Take a risk? Make a bet?
What are the stakes?
Cracks in my bones, fatigued from falling.
What's gonna break?

Eyes are unfocused, the world is a blur, my mind is a haven.
Heaven is a trap.
There is no map.
There is no road.
There are no rivers, no streams, no rocks, no echoes, no moments to take with me as I continue to fall.
Time never stopped.
Time never started.
I never stood still.


Take what you will

I always somehow missed your passing silhouette
but I saw your eyes cry thunder,
saw your sweetly shivering pen-scratching-paper
in the cold streetlight

I never thought I could feel so disconnected
                                                                I was wrong.
                                                                ­For that and for other things. I

meant to share things. With you, with anyone I
           meant to do things that are worthwhile I
                         meant to find the things worth living for I
                                      meant to grasp the hands of the world tightly and never let go
I didn't want to be swayed,
and I'm swinging at the whim of drifting cobwebs


I found myself on the concrete again, tonight, throwing questions at the sky
The parts of myself worth keeping are atrophying, I thought
So I thought some more.


EVERYONE deserves love. I'm tired of scratching the snow waiting for an answer. I want the world to change. And it's not me, it's the rules that broke me. It's the rules that bent me into un
                     rec
og
niz                able
shapes.

So then Why, I asked. One word. Crumbled as the cold set in, and I cried in the moonlight.

That was when I thought of you and the things left unanswered. Mostly I use you as a way to think about myself. When I was with you, I stopped asking questions, I think.
I need to learn how to be alone. I need to learn how to be with people and not stop being. I'm raging so freely lately that I'm dreaming again of you and of the times I kissed you and the times I should have, but mostly of the time I left you...
No regrets, hon, no matter how much it hurts.


So.
Here, again. Alone, again. The apathy is back.
Sun on my back, moon on my back, cracks
in my skin. You win.